


I Know When You're Nervous

by southsideglitter



Series: Never Have I Ever [3]
Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Bondage, Fellatio, M/M, swangs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-17
Updated: 2019-03-17
Packaged: 2019-11-22 23:26:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18143516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/southsideglitter/pseuds/southsideglitter
Summary: "“I mean, all those things from the game the other night… we could do ‘em, you know. I’m down.”Sweet Pea takes another long swallow from the bottle, keeps his voice cool and thoughtful. “That’s one hell of a proposition."By popular demand, a follow-on of sorts from my fic Never Have I Ever, in which the teen Serpents drank for every kink they'd done and Sweet Pea did the worst of them all, then sulked about it until Fangs distracted him the way he knows best.In this one: Fangs and Sweet Pea discuss tying each other up, then Fangs reveals he keeps rope under the bed. After that, it's not just discussion anymore.





	I Know When You're Nervous

It’s been a week since that night at Thornhill. Tonight, Toni and Cheryl are out somewhere, doing whatever they do when they disappear together. They left wearing thigh boots and cat masks, telling them not to wait up. This is the kind of night Fangs and Sweet Pea like best: when they have the entire place to themselves. Far from Tent City, far from school or Serpent drama. Just a fireplace, food, booze, darkness outside and in here, each other.

They’re lying back on the rugs, passing the snacks and a bottle back and forth, talking shit about everyone they know. Then they get onto last Saturday night, Fangs teasing Sweet Pea again; holding the bottle up to the light and saying he’s already drunk more tonight than in that entire game.  
“You’re loving this, aren’t you?” Pea retorts, lightly. “You love having something over me. I mean, I’m taller than you--”  
“Who isn’t?” Fangs mutters.  
“--and tougher--”  
“Bullshit.”  
“--and I’ve saved your ass from trouble a million times. You love having something you’ve done that I haven’t.” Sweet Pea shakes his head, snickering. “And if that’s how you gotta get your kicks, Fogarty, by all means. I feel bad you got nothing better going on, but…”  
“I get it, babe. You’re not jealous. Honest.”  
“I’m not.”  
“Sure.” Fangs snorts, deadpan, passing the bottle over and lying back, stretching as he yawns. Sweet Pea looks at the smooth band of skin where Fangs’ t-shirt rides up, then takes a drink.  
“Anyway, you don’t have to be,” Fangs continues.  
“What do you mean?”  
“I mean, all those things from the game the other night… we could do ‘em, you know. I’m down.”  
Sweet Pea takes another long swallow from the bottle, keeps his voice cool and thoughtful. “That’s one hell of a proposition.”  
Fangs rolls over to face him, seemingly unfazed. _Is he ever fazed by anything?_ Sweet Pea thinks. _Maybe getting shot does that to you. Maybe being unsure about sex seems pointless when you’ve had a bullet blaze through your guts_. He focuses on Fangs again; dark eyes blazing like coals as he continues making his case.  
“I’m just saying, dude. Even Jughead got to drink more than you. And you got a rep to protect.”  
Sweet Pea scowls. “I’ve done loads of things. I’m just not as deviant as you. Everyone I’ve ever been with’s had a good time. You know that. I just get the job done using tried and trusted methods. No extra equipment required.”  
Fangs crooks an eyebrow. “Extra equipment?”  
“You know. Whips, toys, outfits. That kind of thing.” Sweet Pea puts his cocksure grin on and folds his arms behind his head. “Don’t need ‘em. Not when you’ve got skills like me.”  
Fangs moves closer. “Just because you don’t need ‘em doesn’t mean you wouldn’t like ‘em,” he mutters, in a low voice. And Sweet Pea has no answer to that. Not that he could answer anyway, with Fangs’ lips nudging against his, then Fangs’ tongue in his mouth, that warm wet heat the only thing in the entire world, gentle at first and then more intense, until they’re both breathing heavy, raking hands through each other’s hair, gasping into each other’s mouths as they use their tongues and teeth to drive each wild.

 

Turns out that even just talking about tying each other up is pretty hot. That and the fire. So before long, they’ve got their t-shirts off and their jeans undone and Fangs is living up to his reputation, sinking his teeth into the skin between Sweet Pea’s neck and shoulder until Sweets shudders out his name.  
“Fangs,” he says, and Fogarty detaches from sucking his collarbones with an obscene wet pop.  
“What is it, Sweets?”  
“Let’s go upstairs.”  
Fangs’ eyes darken as he scans Pea’s face. “For real?”  
Pea’s gaze flicks down to Fangs’ lips and back again. “For real.”

They scramble upstairs to the guest bedroom they use when they crash out here, something that’s become enough of a regular occurrence that it’s their second home these days. Their undone-jeans slip down when they move, almost making them stumble. Sweet Pea’s dogtags rock against his bare chest, the metal cold where it chimes in contact with his skin. He’s electric all over, unsure but letting his instincts lead. He trusts Fangs to the end of the earth and beyond. _So this is okay, right? It won’t fuck things up? We’re good, the two of us. We’re the best. Something that feels this good can’t be bad, surely. And things have been heading this way for forever… might as well enjoy the ride_. Because they’ve never really gone further than their make-out sessions before. Those have happened every once in a while for a long time now; riding the adrenaline surge after Serpent missions, or when bad shit goes down and they just need the distraction. And even though those times have always been perfect; comfort and sweetness or hot-as-fuck fierce depending on what each other needs; there’s always been a tentativeness about them too. Not wanting to take too much, do too much, push too hard, ask for something more than the other can give. They know all each other’s scars. The real ones, like the knot low on Fangs’ stomach, a tight pull of pale tissue that still shows where the bullet tore right through him. And the emotional ones, like Sweet Pea rampaging through the North Side that night when he thought Fangs was lost, heart ripped apart, filling the holes left behind with howling white-hot fury and blame. They know each other’s limits, the places where damage has been done and maybe hasn’t yet healed. They’re careful not to go too far.

But lately, things have felt like they’re escalating. They’re making out more than before; more often, and more intense. And tonight feels like part of that acceleration. Like they’re both just hanging on by their fingernails, riding the endorphins, the lust, the night. And as long as they’re with each other, it’s a white-knuckled rollercoaster that feels more thrill than fear.

They’re kissing again before they’re even through the door, scrambling out of their jeans as they crash down onto the bed. Fangs ends up on top, holding Pea’s arms down even though Sweets is definitely stronger, and he lets him do it, lets Fangs pin him to the bed and trail scorching kisses down his neck, his chest.  
“Fucking hell, Fogarty,” he mumbles, biting his lip to clear his mind enough to be able to form words. “Anyone ever tell you you’re incredible?”  
“All the time,” Fangs murmurs. His tone of voice is cocky but Sweet Pea feels the grin against his skin. “And I’m gonna make you feel incredible too.”  
He sits up, knees either side of Sweets’ hips, grinds down against where Pea’s already hard inside his boxers. Sweet Pea groans at the friction and Fangs’ grin gets bigger.  
“You really wanna do this?” Fangs asks, and when Sweet Pea bites his lip and nods, Fangs stretches over to reach under the bed and brings out a length of rope.  
Sweet Pea takes in the sight of Fangs, down to only his boxers, sitting astride him, about to tie him to the bed. And it’s an amazing sight, one of the best Pea’s ever seen. It makes Pea feel hot and almost out-of-control, pulse hammering in his throat and elsewhere too.  
Even so, he has a thought.  
“So… you just randomly keep rope under the bed, huh?”  
Fangs loops the rope around one of Pea’s wrists, then threads it through the wrought-iron headboard, pulls it tight. “I mean, you never know when you might need rope.”  
“Dude, I have so many questions right now.”  
Fangs moves to secure Sweet Pea’s other arm. “It’s just rope. I keep it there in case I need it.”  
“But, like… what for?!”  
Fangs shrugs, concentrating on the knots. “Sex. Crimes. Whatever.”  
“Sex crimes? This is your rope that you use for sex crimes?”  
Fangs snickers. “Dude, you do know I know you, right? And I know you only go off like this when you’re nervous.”  
“Fuck you, Fangs. I’m the toughest motherfucker there is. I don’t get nervous.”  
“And yet, you’re still talking…”  
“I’m supposed to not comment on the sex crime rope?!”  
“You’re supposed to shut the fuck up,” Fangs says, and his voice is low and dangerous now. He yanks the final knot taut. “You’re ruining the mood.”  
Sweet Pea pouts. “Am not.”  
“So this is turning you on?” Fangs asks, cocking an eyebrow as he watches Sweet Pea test the bonds, finding he can move some but not much.  
“I didn’t say that,” Sweets says, still pulling against the rope; not hard, but enough. Wanting to see how truly trapped in place he is.  
Fangs comes closer, easing into position astride Sweet Pea again. “Didn’t have to,” he says, and licks into the hollow at the base of Pea’s throat.

He moves his mouth against Pea’s Serpent tattoo, where he knows the skin is sensitive. Feels Sweets melt into it and then start to tense and shift as his desire builds.  
“I can do it with belts if you want,” Fangs murmurs, into Pea’s ear, feeling Pea shiver at his voice. “Yours and mine. But rope is stronger. And better.”  
_Be cool_ , Sweet Pea tells himself. _He’s done this before_. And that thought makes the tension in him twist; a sick curl of jealousy but also something richer, headier. A victorious sensation that he’s the one here, with Fangs, tonight. Tied to a bed in just his underwear while Fangs trails his hands all over and kisses him again, deep and intense and delicious.  
He mumbles into Fangs’ mouth that he’s okay with the rope.  
“One more thing,” Fangs says, moving down Sweet Pea’s chest.  
“What?”  
“We need a safe word. In case you wanna stop.”  
Dark eyes meet, burning into each other. Pea swallows. “I don’t think I’m gonna wanna stop.”  
“You never know. Choose one anyway.”  
“What about Jughead?”  
Fangs’ face crinkles in confusion. “What about him?”  
“That’s the word. You hear that, you stop.”  
Fangs stares at Sweet Pea for a long second. “You’re fucked up, man.”  
“I know.”

 

With Sweet Pea tied into place, Fangs takes his time; licks a hot path down his body, palms him through his boxers but mostly concentrates on teasing. Leaves lovebites on Sweet Pea’s thighs, ghosts his breath over his hips, chuckles when he hears Pea’s breathing hitch.  
Fangs fingertips’ toy with the edges of Sweets’ underwear as he flickers his tongue over every millimeter of exposed skin. Sweet Pea bucks his hips up under Fangs’ touch and groans.  
“Fuck’s sake, Fogarty. You’re killing me.”  
“That mean I can take these off?” Fangs snickers, teasing the waistband of Pea’s boxers.  
“It means I’m gonna lose my mind if you don’t.”

Fangs drags them down and off, takes a moment to soak up how gorgeous Sweet Pea is right then; hard and hot and beautiful, fists clenched in anticipation, wrists roped to the bed; hunger and intensity written right across his face.  
“What’s the matter, Fogarty? You need a written invitation?”  
“Pretty fucking mouthy for someone in such a prone position, Pea,” Fangs says, but his voice is filthy, flirty, salivating at the sight of him. Still, he wants to show Sweets who’s in charge. For now, at least. He shifts position so he’s kneeling between Sweet Pea’s thighs, kissing him almost-but-not-quite everywhere. Everywhere but where Pea wants his mouth most. Sweet Pea’s cock is big and throbbing for attention; even just looking at it makes Fangs feel fevered, frenzied, wild. Still, he swallows hard, forces himself to go slow.

When Fangs finally sinks his mouth down onto Sweet Pea’s cock, he’s rewarded with a string of growled curse words from Sweets and an ominous groan from the bedframe as every muscle in Pea’s body tenses, straining against his bonds. Fangs swirls his tongue around the head, letting Pea arch up into his fist, then takes him as deep as he can again, hollowing his cheeks to take the sensation to another level.  
“How did you get so good at this?” Sweets manages to mumble the words between shallow breaths and throaty moans.  
Fangs smiles at how delirious he sounds. “You really wanna ask that right now?” he asks, tongue snaking up and down the length of Sweets’ cock, then circling the tip again. “Or you wanna show me how much you like getting your dick sucked like this?”

Sweet Pea groans as Fangs takes him back into his mouth, feeling Fangs grin around him. He gives himself over to it, to the wet silk heat and Fangs holding his hips so hard he’ll have bruises after. _How the fuck is this happening?_ This is _not_ how he saw this night going. His arms ache where they’re held in position by the rope, but it feels good; a pressure on the edge of pain, something secure to anchor him here. Even though he aches to have his hands free, to be able to rake them through Fangs hair, use that as leverage to fuck his mouth deeper, harder. But having them tied in place is even better somehow; it’s making him even more sensitive to everything, and it's almost unnerving, or would be if it was anyone but Fangs. Fangs is recklessness, sweetness, desire. Everything all at once. And Sweet Pea’s thoughts are getting more fragmented with every bob of Fangs’ head, and he can feel the tension sparking, heightening. Everything on edge, bucking up into Fangs’ mouth and then--

“Tell me,” Fangs says, coming up for air for a moment, Pea’s cock big and throbbing as Fangs’ lips move against him. “Tell me how long you’ve wanted this for.”  
He glances up and their dark eyes meet. Sweet Pea feels every syllable in the flicker of Fangs’ tongue against his dick.  
“Get fucked,” Sweet Pea bites the words out, going for playful and defiant, but it just comes out in a desperate half-groan as Fangs slides his fist up and down almost lazily, waiting for an answer.  
“Tell me, Sweet Pea,” Fangs demands again, and the sternness in his voice is like a thousand-volt electric shock right down Sweet Pea’s spine. It zips through him as he thrusts up into Fangs’ hand, Fangs’ tongue swirling over the head and making Pea’s breath shudder.  
“I’ve wanted it for fucking ever, Fogarty.” Sweets stumbles over the words, letting them all out in a desperate rush. “I’ve imagined it a million times. You make me lose my goddamn mind. Even when you’re not doing anything. So this, being here with you, like this… it’s incredible, better than I ever thought, and…”  
Fangs rewards Pea for his honesty by taking as much of his cock as he can into his mouth again, dragging his mouth up and down his length and making Pea’s words falter.  
“You’re amazing, Sweets,” Fangs mumbles around him, gripping Pea’s ass and holding him place. “It’s more intense than I ever thought too. I wanna make you feel good, and--” He increases his tempo, panting now, his own cock aching in his boxers. His voice is thick as he gets out the last few words. “Wanna make you come.”

Another groan from Pea, louder this time as he responds to Fangs’ faster pace, hips slamming up to match the rhythm of Fangs rocking back and forth, his dick pistoning in and out of Fangs’ mouth, as deep as he can take. Sweet Pea’s toes curl and his fists clench, the bedframe shifting as he pulls against his bonds keeping him in place. _Oh my fucking god, Fangs_. He’s getting close to coming and there’s a sudden slam of realization and something like relief: right now, Sweets doesn’t have to do anything, be anything but here. Doesn’t have to take control, be in control. Doesn’t have to think, or wish, or hope; assess some crazy situation and whizz through every possible outcome in a millisecond to work out the one where he and Fangs don’t get hurt. Doesn’t have to fight, or escape. Doesn't need to face down yet another enemy with just his scowl and height and most intimidating words, or the switchblade in his pocket he hopes he doesn’t have to use. Even though he will if he has to. To protect himself, or the others. It’s exhausting, that constant threat of danger. The knowing that whatever happens, he’s got to stay strong. Enough for them to lean on if they need. The other times he’s been with people, he’s been too in his head, wanting to make them feel good but losing something along the way; feeling out of his body, like he’s watching himself from above as he goes through the motions, taking pride in it but not much else, knowing it’s what everyone expects, what he should be doing, and getting his kicks from the way he can make them scream or when they say after that he’s the best they’ve ever had.

Other times he goes too far the other way; fucked up, risky, rough; chasing release like some fucking Fizzle Rocks junkie. Then afterwards a slow seep of shame and uncertainty, asking if it was worth it. But this. Being here, with Fangs, tied up. He’s powerless. That’s usually a state that scares the shit out of him. He feels powerless all the time and hates it. So there’s some perverse thrill about twisting it to this. To giving himself over to Fangs, who he trusts to the end of the world and beyond. There’s some strange power to that powerlessness; to not being able to do anything but let it happen, ride through this billion-dollar feeling that’s pure and filthy all at once, all tangled up. Too many sensations at once, all tangled up, his entire body alive with sensation, spiralling out from where Fangs’ mouth and hands are pumping his dick, fast and hot and wet and beautiful and Sweet Pea squeezes his eyes shut, white-hot sparks exploding in the dark behind his eyelids as he gives a final moan. And then, that’s it, he’s coming, hard, hips juddering and spunk pulsing down Fangs’ throat.

Fangs swallows every drop, snickering at the way Sweet Pea’s breathing hitches at every micro-movement. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and then presses kisses to Pea’s hips, soothing the marks his fingers have left. When Pea’s breathing’s smoothed out, Fangs kneels up to see him properly.  
“You okay, babe?” he asks, and his voice comes out hoarse, making Sweets’ closed eyes flutter back open.  
Their dark eyes meet, Pea taking in the sight of Fangs’ swollen lips.  
He gives a slow orgasm-dazed grin. “Come here.”  
With a tilt of a head, he motions for Fangs to come closer.  
Fangs shifts nearer, leaning forward, moving his hands to Sweet Pea’s still-trapped ones, lacing their fingers together as they share another long kiss, and it feels deeper and better than before, even more intoxicating.  
“Let me untie you,” Fangs says, some time later, and the knots soon come undone.  
Sweet Pea rolls his wrists to bring the blood back, but after that he wastes no time in grabbing Fangs, crushing their bodies together so hard that there’s barely room to breathe but just wanting to hold him for a moment.

“Can I tie you up next time?” he whispers, manoevring them so that he’s the big spoon. Fangs curls into his side, Pea’s arm slung over his waist. Although they've usually been wearing more clothes, this at least is familiar. And even without being able to see Sweets’ face, Fangs can hear the filthy grin in his voice.  
He yawns, gives his answer a cool laziness that's a long way away from how he really feels. “Who says there’s gonna be a next time?”  
Sweets snakes his hands lower. “Your dick, motherfucker.”  
Fangs cackles and shifts in Sweets’ arms to kiss him again.

“So can I?” Sweets asks again, later. “Tie you up, I mean.”  
Fangs smoothes Sweet Pea’s messy hair off his forehead, pretends to think it over. “You gotta be such a top about everything, huh?”  
Pea smirks. “Don’t pretend you don’t love it.”  
“Are you gonna use the sex crime rope?”  
Sweets’ teeth graze one of Fangs’ earlobes, smiling when he hears the way Fangs sucks in his breath in response.“If you ask nice.”

Later still, almost dawn, they're tangled together between the covers, just about to sink into sleep.  
“Don’t forget,” Fangs mumbles, into the crook of Pea’s neck. “We got all those other things on your list to do yet.”  
“Trust me,” Sweet Pea growls, pulling Fangs closer. “There’s not a fucking chance I’d forget. What are we gonna do next?”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! ❤️  
> Comments are life.  
> Let me know if you want more in this series too x


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